The Time Between Us
by imAdork26
Summary: Abbie Mills and Steve Rodgers' paths cross at a bar.


An experimental, crossover fanfic. :) Very big thanks to Vocal Vixen for her extreme patience and honest feedback in helping me shape this story. This fic is written in reverse, just so you know. The ending is first and then it goes on to the beginning of the story. It's my first time dong this, and I hope you like it. :) Feedback welcome.

* * *

Saturday, 6:18pm

Steve hoists Abbie on his shoulder when she refuses to get out of bed. He's laughing as she's squirming.

"Put me down," she says, giggling.

"Not a chance. You can't sleep all day, Mills."

"Easy for you to say. You practically don't need sleep."

"Not true. Just not as often as other people."

"Us regular folk you mean."

He sets her down. "The average person."

"Right. Well, since I'm up, do you have time for another shower?"

"What's one more?" he says, smirking.

After they are in clean clothes, Abbie helps him into his leather jacket. He grabs his duffel bag, and they walk out together. He sets his bag on his bike.

They are quiet for a minute. All the things he wants to say to her are all gone, like how much he's going to miss her and how he even wants to ask her to come with him. He had a little speech planned, too, but that didn't seem right for this.

Steve wasn't expecting any of this. When he saw her in the bar, it made sense why he was there. Certainly, he thinks he's fallen for her.

"I won't ever forget this, Abbie."

"Same here. Thank you. For everything."

"It was my pleasure." He hands her a slip of paper with his number on it. "If you need anything, whatever it is, call me. Okay? I mean it."

She nods, takes it. He notices the tears in her eyes that she tries to blink away, so he hugs her. She squeezes her arms around him as tight as she can.

"Don't do anything stupid."

He grins, wipes her face. "I promise I'll take care of myself. Send me a postcard from Quantico, will you?"

"Promise."

Steve kisses her for the last time today. He hopes he'll remember the taste of her and how she looked at him like he had all of her. Of course, he wishes he can stay here with her, but it's not quite fair if he keeps her to himself. Abbie's meant for the world, for something great. He can't keep her from that any more than she can keep him from being Captain America. Though at some point in their lives, he thinks they'll see each other again.

She kisses him once more before letting him get on his bike.

"Maybe I'll visit Sleepy Hollow one day."

"I'll be there."

"See you soon, Abbie."

"Later, Steve."

He starts his bike and slowly backs out the parking space. She salutes him like the bartender. He returns it, with a small smile. As he leaves the hotel, passes the bar and the lake, he thinks of her like there's no time between them at all.

* * *

Saturday, 5:47pm

When Steve wakes up, Abbie's asleep on his arm. He watches her for a second, taking her in this way: at ease and full from his care. If they weren't on two different paths, she could be the love of his life in this present world. He thinks he could make her happy or he'd die trying.

He whispers in her ear. "Wake up, sweetness."

She groans. "No."

He chuckles. "You don't really have a choice."

She nestles closer to him. "Thirty more minutes?"

He can't deny her if he tried. Sighing, he gives in. "Lucky for you, I don't want you out of my arms yet either." He kisses her forehead. "Not ever, really."

She smiles with her eyes closed. He stares at her, trying to remember all of her right here.

Saturday, 4:29pm

Once they are in the room, they clumsily reach for each other. Their kisses are messy as they help the other out of their damp clothes. Abbie sighs into his mouth, and Steve removes her bra and panties. She's lays on the bed. Before she can blink, his tongue is between her legs, and she's grasping his hair. Her moans fill the space in the room. He has her wide open while his mouth does a little bit of this and a little bit of that. It's insanity. Then he fingers her.

"Fuck," she says.

He chuckles. "Language, sweetness."

She feels too good that she can't even bother to tell him to shutup. He gives her a small break to get a condom, and then they pick up where they were. When he gently pushes himself into her, she's unfiltered at that point, shameless in her pleading cries. Her knees tighten around his waist as he groans into her neck.

"Intoxicating," he says.

This is how she wants to be loved by someone for the rest of her life. He makes her feel like she's the center of his being. She finds herself wanting to love him until the world falls apart. Abbie puts herself on top of him. He lets her lead them into oblivion, into bliss that makes them stumble on the other's name. She rests on top of him, giddy, full, and breathless.

He kisses her softly. "You okay?"

She loves that he checks on her. "I'm perfect. You?"

"I'm great." His hands run down her back. "Round 2?"

She shakes her head. "I don't think I can handle it this time."

"I'll do the work."

She smiles because it's tempting, and though she's tired, she feels her body aroused again. What is this man doing to her?

"Come here," she says.

She lets him consume her.

* * *

Saturday, 3:55pm

After breakfast, Steve takes them to a lake. They sit on a dull wooden swing. He holds her while she lays on his chest. The murky water softly meets the bank, and a few turtles bask on rocks.

"I never went to the lake as a kid," he says.

"How come?"

"My mom worked a lot trying to keep a roof over my head, so there wasn't time. Plus, we couldn't afford vacations with what she made. It was hardly anything, but she always made it work."

She takes his hand. "You miss her."

"Everyday."

She nods. "I wish moms could stay on earth forever."

"Me, too."

"What about your dad? Was he around?"

"He died also when I was kid. It seems like I have the worst luck with parents, huh?"

"I think we both do, but they are still apart of us, for better or worse."

"I agree."

"Since you're here, what's one thing you'd like to do?"

"I don't know. Fish."

Abbie laughs. "Fish? Of all things? Fish?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"That's boring. I remember Corbin used to take me, my sister, and his son, Joe, fishing. We hated it. He said it was to teach us patience. But most times, we'd end up jumping in the lake when he wasn't looking to escape the torture. He'd be so mad."

He smiles at her. "You were troublemakers, I see."

"We were such little shits. The old man didn't know what to do with us sometimes."

He laughs loud. "I bet."

Suddenly, she gets up and takes off her shoes.

"What are you doing?"

"Wanna swim?"

"I don't think we can do that."

"No one's here. Live a little, Rogers. You can't just want to fish at the lake."

She removes her pants and shirt, leaves on her bra and panties. Heaven help him.

He shakes his head in regret and in surrender. "Fine."

"Let's make more memories." She doesn't wait for him to undress.

He watches her run down the pier in carelessness and cannonball into the water. As he sprints down the pier himself, he knows he's probably doing something he shouldn't. With her, he doesn't quite care. He'd break a million rules to see her happy. When he dives in, the water's cool and calm. She splashes him, starting water fight.

"Let's try something," she says.

"What other shenanigans do you have in mind?" He takes her around her waist.

She tells him about how the _Dirty Dancing_ characters practiced the lift in the water. She wants to try it this time, and they do, but they fail. Once. Twice. Three times. Every time she lands into the water, Abbie blames him.

"It's not my fault," he says, laughing in disbelief. "You aren't keeping your balance."

"Me? You're the one that's wobbling in your stance. For a superhero, you don't have the best form for this."

"It's not my—"

"Ahem!"

They turn to the pier to see a woman standing over them in a beige uniform and a hat. Her arms are crossed. She's not smiling.

"Hi, ma'am," Steve says. "We were just—"

Abbie grabs his arm. She's hiding her laugh in his shoulder. He tries to keep his own composure.

"There's no swimming in this lake. The sign says so right there." She points to a green sign near the swing.

"We're sorry, ma'am. It's my fault. I thought we could—"

"I don't care. Get out."

"Yes, ma'am."

She gives them room to climb onto the pier. They take the lengthy walk-of-shame down the dock for their clothes and shoes. As they dress, Abbie's eyes glimmer. She's smirking. He bits his lip to keep from laughing aloud himself.

"I don't want to see you two here again," the lady says. "Go before I call park security."

They nod, and Steve quickly helps Abbie tie the laces on her other boot. Their clothes are wet and stick to them.

"Damned superhero always getting into something," she grumbles as they leave.

Before they can make it to the motorcycle, they laugh their hearts out, not caring if she hears them. It feels good to let lose. He doesn't know the last time he really had fun.

"I think you're officially on her shit list," Abbie says.

They hop on his bike. "It's not the first one I've been on."

"You must be doing something right then."

"Must be." He takes off, back towards the hotel.

* * *

Saturday, 2:41pm

The diner is Hollywood-themed. Famous movie stars—Marilyn Monroe, Sidney Poitier, Shirley Temple, Hattie McDaniel—grace the walls in picture frames. Vinyl records and music notes are also added for decoration. "The Invitation to the Jellicle Ball" plays from the speakers. The servers wear light blue. The place isn't packed but it's not empty either. Customers order orange juice and stacks of pancakes and greasy sausage. Matty, their waitress, sits them at a booth near the window and starts them off with mugs of coffee. Abbie browses through the six-page menu. She can't decide between the chocolate chip pancakes or the double decker French toast combo. All she knows is she's starving.

"Know what you gonna get?" she asks.

"I have no clue where to start. So much to pick from."

"It's a shit ton."

They have omelets with goat cheese and chicken, pancakes with apples and walnuts, and French toast with berries and whipped cream. Waffles are even on the list. There are about fifty items total.

"Agreed."

They finally settle on what they want when Matty returns, a notepad in her hand. Abbie orders the toast and Steve gets the waffles. She takes their menus, says their food will be out in 20 minutes, and walks off to check on other customers. They sip their coffee as they wait.

"So."

He smiles at her. "So."

"What are you doing after you leave town?"

"More than likely continue my search for Bucky unless I'm needed by the team. You?"

"I don't know. I think I might hop towns some more before I head back to Sleepy Hollow. Then after that, I might consider re-submitting my application to Quantico."

He raises his eyebrows. "The F.B.I.? Very nice. Are you a cop where you live?"

She nods. "A lieutenant. Being a special agent has always been a dream of mine though."

"It suits you."

"Thank you. What made you stop here in town?"

She meant to ask that earlier.

"I got stuck in my search. I needed a break."

She nods, and they are quiet.

She knows they'll have to part ways soon, but she doesn't want to just yet. Abbie really likes him. If someone had told her she'd quickly fall for a superhero, she would've laughed in their face. Then again, she has seen her fair share of the impossible, so this isn't too far-fetched. She only wishes they had more time together.

Both him and Crane have unexpectedly dropped into her life for different reasons. Even though Crane's being such an ass right now, she's found her purpose with him. But with Steve—sweet Steve—he's reminded her of what she deserves out of life, and she's so grateful for that. If their lives were different, if Crane weren't in the picture, Steve would be her guy.

"What are you thinking about, Abbie?"

She's going to miss his instincts. He reads her so well.

"We'll have to go back to reality after this."

He plays with her fingers, avoids her eyes. "I know. I don't want to either, but…"

"Duty calls. I get it. Being a Witness doesn't really let me have a day off either."

He looks at her confused, and she realizes what she said.

"Witness?"

_Shit._

She straightens in the booth. "Basically, I save my town from monsters. It doesn't really pay anything like being a lieutenant, but people are protected."

"You're a superhero in another form." He smiles. "That's admirable."

"Thank you." She pauses. "So you're not freaked out?"

"Have you seen my team? I work with a god, and one of them turns green, so your job doesn't scare me too tough. Though, I'll admit, I'm afraid of monsters that haunt you in your sleep."

She laughs. "Have I got a story for you then, but another time. I think right now, I just want to focus on us before you have to go."

He kisses her fingers. "I'd like that."

* * *

Saturday, 2:07pm

When Abbie wakes up, she's wrapped comfortable in Steve's arms. She smiles as she recalls last night. It was incredible being with him. He was genuine and tender, made her feel so admired. She liked it most when he got out character. It was nice to see him unfiltered, to pull a couple of curses from his mouth every so often.

"Afternoon, sweetness." He kisses her.

"Hi." She sits up, stretches, and yawns. "Coffee?"

"Sounds great right about now. I don't think I've ever been this tired."

"That's sounds like a first."

He sits up. "I think you've depleted all my energy."

"I'm sure that super strength of yours will kick in soon."

His lips skim her shoulder. "Certainly. You want some breakfast with that coffee? I saw a diner when I rode into town."

"I could use some French toast and bacon."

"Let's go get you some food then."

She gets out of bed, naked, and turns to him, smirking. He already feels his arousal under the covers.

"Shower?"

He bites his lip, knowing he shouldn't because it'll only take them longer to get to the diner. "I thought breakfast was the mission."

"We'll call this an improvisation."

He grins, standing to his feet. "I would never allow this on an assignment, but just this once we can make the exception."

She gets a sense of who he is in the field: someone sure of his decisions and someone willing to listen to others and take their lead.

"Understood, Captain." She winks and leads him to the bathroom.

* * *

Friday, 10:37pm

The snack machine has gum, salted chips, cookies, candy bars, gummy bears, honey buns—the worst foods one could eat for a snack. The last time he was at a vending machine was at the hospital after Fury "died." He tosses the quarters in his hands.

"What would you like?" He glances down at her.

Goodness, she's tiny, but such a force all her own. He wonders what she does for a living.

"Um…a Snickers, Cheez-Itz, and a bottled water."

He puts the coins in, pushes F6 and H1, and grabs the snacks out for her. After placing them in her hands, he gets her water.

She chuckles. "You know I could do this myself?"

"I know. I wanted to." He smiles.

He doesn't doubt for a second how independent she is. The gentleman in him can't let a lady serve herself, the snack machine included.

"You gonna get anything?"

He glances at what's offered, unsure if he should indulge or not. He still wants to have a healthy regimen, if he can help it. But he does have a sweet tooth right about now.

"I'm watching my figure."

She laughs loudly.

Hearing her like that makes him feel light.

"Have something you want. I won't tell."

He glances at the ground, softly says, "I want you."

It's corny to say, yes, but it's true. When he first saw her in the bar, she looked distracted, sad. It made him wonder who would hurt her in any type of capacity. She seems like a woman who's been torn, rebuilt, and torn again, but he's not sure of its source. Could be her childhood or her thing with her partner. Work, even. He just hopes he can be the one to bring some sort of happiness to her, even if it's only for a few hours.

She tilts her head, gives a sideways smile. Her free hand squeezes his. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you, Steve Rogers."

"I'm sure you'll figure something out. Do you have all the food you want?"

"Yep."

In the room, she throws her snacks on the bed, slips off her shoes.

"I'm going to change." She grabs a pair of shorts and a tank out her suitcase.

He nods and removes his own shoes, putting them by the chair he sat in earlier. She comes from the bathroom, with her clothes in a ball. She puts them in her luggage and then makes herself comfortable on the bed. He joins her. As she opens her Cheez-Itz, he grabs the remote from the nightstand to turn on the TV. There's only basic cable, but a ton of movies air, most of which he doesn't know until Abbie explains them to him. There's one about a teen girl who gets asked out by the popular guy in high school, one about an African prince trying to find a bride in New York, and another about a young woman learning ballroom dance with a handsome instructor at a country club. She says these are all classic 80's romance flicks he should've watched. They settle on _Dirty Dancing_.

"Do you have a favorite movie?" he asks.

"_Titanic_. It's cheesy, I know, but it's so bittersweet. Have you gotten a chance to see it?"

"I'm afraid I hadn't had much time. It has been recommended though. I've been told the ending makes people cry."

"Don't laugh, but I've cried rivers over that movie."

He smiles at this, finds it charming. His hand squeezes her knee. "I think we've all got a bit of sentimentality in us, even the toughest of us."

"I'd say so."

"What else makes you sad, Abbie?"

"I feel like we're starting a game of 20 Questions here." She turns the volume down a little. "I don't normally do this, open up so easily, especially to strangers. Maybe it's the superhero thing, but I don't mind talking to you."

"You don't have—"

"I know. I want to. I feel like I can trust you, right?"

Maybe that's one thing she needs right now: someone trustworthy, dependable.

"Yes, Abbie."

She tells him a shortened version of her childhood: how her mom killed herself, how her dad left, how she and her sister were put in foster care, how they lost touch and reconnected, how she lost her mentor, Corbin.

"I'm still trying let all of this go. I haven't found a way to I guess."

He kisses the palm of her hand. "That's a lot to carry."

She shrugs. "I'm used to it."

It saddens him to hear this. He doesn't want her to feel like she's alone in her suffering, that everything is on her back. No one should have to feel that way.

"Well, if you ever get tired, you can give some of it to me."

"I might take you up on that." She smiles little.

So does he.

"What about you?"

He mentions Bucky again, how he's not himself lately because of a "trauma," how he misses his old life and the people in it, especially Peggy. But he doesn't go into details about her. Everything for him has changed, and he doesn't quite know how to hit restart.

"I think we kind of just have to heal when we're ready, however that happens," she says.

He likes her optimism. She's right. "One of these days, yeah?"

"One of these days."

In this moment, he knows that they are just two people, with stones of loss, trying their best.

She glances at the TV. "Oh, this my favorite scene. It's The Lift. Nearly everyone has tried this and failed."

He watches as the man lifts the woman in the air effortlessly. He's wonders how many times they practiced. "Do you want to try it?"

Her eyes widen. "What?"

He gets off the bed. "Would you like to try it?"

"I know you've got the strength of Hercules and all, but there's no way we're attempting that."

He walks to her side of the bed, holds out his hands. "I'm not asking again, Mills."

She crosses her arms in a challenge. "I'm not—"

He gently and quickly lifts her off the bed. She squeals and laughs.

"You're fucking crazy, Rogers."

"Language." He sits her on her feet and grabs her shoes. "We're going to the parking lot. Step in."

Her eyes glimmer with want as she intrudes his personal space. "Make me, Captain."

Suddenly, he's aroused by the softness of her breath on his mouth and by the resistance in her voice and in her stance. She's not one to back down from anyone, not even him, not that he's expecting her to. He almost thinks she likes his commanding nature. In swiftness, he's tugs her to him and kisses her. There is tongue on her part and groans on his.

"Being stubborn, huh?" he says against her neck.

She slides her fingers under his shirt. "One of my best qualities."

"Among other things." He squeezes her ass.

She sighs into his mouth.

Though he's only known her for a short time, he wants to please her, wants to make her feel wanted. Abbie's too special for anyone to simply pass over, to just up-and-leave her.

He stops kissing her a moment. "Let me undress you."

Questions are on her face, but she nods.

As his lips make their way across her neck, his fingers skim her warm skin before he slips off her shirt. His mouth trails her collar bone while unclasping her laced teal bra. With one hand, he kneads one breast as he kisses and nips the other. Her fingers wind into his hair. He loves the lightness in her voice when she says his name. Her skin tastes sweet. After he kisses her belly button, he pulls her shorts and panties down her legs, helps her carefully step out of them. Fully on his knees, he swallows the whole of her body with his eyes. She's beautiful, womanly in all the right places, from her hips to her full thighs and plump behind. Her brown skin softly glows under the dim lamp light. There aren't enough words to describe her, not just her physicality but her inner being as well. He lips follow the short length up her body, back to her lips, the starting point.

"You are something special, Abbie."

She blushes. "The things you say."

He lifts her chin. "I mean it. I'm always honest."

She shakes her head at him in disbelief, goes for his lips and the erection between his legs with her hand.

He kisses her shoulder. "Lay on the bed."

Her eyes present another challenge. "You're taking forever to fuck me, Captain."

He chuckles, doesn't bother reprimanding her. He likes her potty mouth.

Watching her lay on the bed, he says, "You're worth more than that. Plus, I like to take my time."

She spreads her legs open for him. "We don't have all night."

He smirks, wraps her legs around his waist. "You can wait."

She sighs, and he can't help but laugh at her impatience. They kiss each other's lips for a while until he slides two fingers inside of her. She gasps into his mouth, what he thinks is her sigh of relief. She grips his shoulders as he gently works her toward her first climax. He watches her close her eyes in pleasure.

"Feels good," she says. "More."

He removes his fingers, quickly kisses down her body. She squirms below him, which he likes.

"Fuck," she says, as his mouth and tongue dive between her legs. She tastes full and warm.

"Steve…. _Oh_." Her back slightly arches off the bed. Nails roughly scrap his scalp.

He hopes to devour her, to leave her loved in pieces. And he partly does so, when she comes in his mouth. He groans, enjoying her smalls squeaks and the way her legs trap him between her. He goes for her mouth again. She sits up to unbuckle his pants in a hurry, but he stops her. She looks at him, with a bit of a scrunched-up face. She's frustrated.

"Why do you keep doing that?"

"Why do you want to rush?"

"I'm not—"

"You are."

She sighs. "You really want to talk about this now, Steve? In the middle of sex?"

"I do." He touches her cheek. "I promise to fuck you speechless afterwards."

She falls back into the pillow in full laughter, and he's laughing along with her. "Language, Rogers."

He lays down beside her, traces his fingers down her stomach. She's quiet as he waits for her, wondering what her daily life is like.

"With what I do, I feel like there's so little time. There's always something to solve, people to save, things to research. My job is never-ending it feels like, and I think I have to catch each minute before it disappears, you know? I don't have a lot of them."

"That makes sense. I think for me everything is going at full speed. I'm the one who's scrambling to catch up with the world. Whether it's technology or helping people, there's so much I must finish. When I'm alone, all I want to do is take my time, go at my own pace."

She plays with his fingers. "That makes sense, too. I think it's all about balance at the end of the day. Not too much of one thing, not too less of the other. It's hard to do, but we'll get it right soon, won't we?"

He smiles, says yes, and then kisses her. He's on top of her, with his fingers in her again, touching her until she's had just enough. "Do you have a condom?"

She's somewhat breathy. "Suitcase."

After he finds them and puts a couple of extras on the nightstand. She snatches his clothes off. He slides on the condom, and then he carefully inserts himself into her. They release moans that are obscene for even the dirtiest ears. They are finally here, at this point, and Steve still finds he can't rush right through this. He moves slowly, for thoroughness.

"Let me take my time," he says.

And she gasps as he finds a spot she really likes while clutching his shoulders. He chases the corners of her skin with his lips as he makes love to her. He can't seem to help his own sounds of pleasure as he nudges further into her. Her nails scratch his shoulders, his back. He carefully flips them, so she's on top of him. He wants to watch her in pleasure, in freedom. She steals her name and grunts from his mouth as she rides him quickly. He feels every bit of her, so much so that it almost makes him crazed. Then he switches their position again, holding her hands above her head with one hand and settling her left leg on his hip with the other. He slows the pace.

"Steve…." she says, calling for what she wants, what she deserves, and what she needs, something intangible only he can give her right now.

He says, "Trust me, sweetness," causing her legs to tighten around his waist.

Within seconds, she orgasms, and he enjoys her undoing. Soon enough, he meets his end, too. Both of them pant, and Steve excuses himself to the bathroom to gather himself. When he returns, she's wearing his t-shirt. It's a little oversized on her but cute. He kisses her lips.

"How are you feeling?"

He wants to make sure he didn't hurt her.

She can't hide her smile. "Good. Really, really good. You?"

He climbs into bed and holds her. "I feel good, too."

"I'm sure it's been ages since you've gotten laid."

He laughs from his belly, as she asserts herself on top of him. "Only a few 70 years."

She waves him off. "That's nothing."

"Oh, yeah. That's certainly not a lot of time."

She giggles. "Round 2?"

He clutches her hips, and she grabs for the second condom on the nightstand.

He touches her thighs. "We've got a bit more time."

She kisses him, and they fall into each other again and once more after that.

* * *

Friday, 10:28pm

When Abbie parks, Steve helps her off the bike. He didn't have an extra helmet, so he gave her the one he wears.

"You ride well," he says, grabbing his bag.

In truth, he's trying to catch his breath. He almost fell off the bike as she did an unexpected wheelie.

"I nearly gave you a heart attack, huh?"

"Yes." He laughs. "But it was fun."

"Good." She takes out her room key, and he follows her into the suite.

There is one bed, the carpet is a weird pattern, and the walls are beige. Her suitcase is on the floor. It's cool in the room.

"Make yourself comfortable."

He leaves his jacket on a chair at the small dining table, sits his bag on the floor, and takes a seat. She walks toward him, straddles his lap, and kisses his neck.

"Abbie," he says, gently lifting her chin to look at him. "I…"

It dawns on her.

"Oh," she says. "I'm sorry I misunderstood."

He hopes he hasn't made her feel embarrassed or silly.

She begins to untangle herself from him.

He stops her from moving. "I don't mind this. It's just…" His cheeks redden. "I've never had a one-night stand, and as much as I'd like to have you in bed, I'd like to get to know you a little more first."

He knows he's old-fashioned. Most men wouldn't think twice about sleeping with Abbie if she gave them the opportunity. She's beautiful, intelligent, and so much more that he wants to uncover. He doesn't want to objectify her. Even in this, he wants to respect her.

"Okay. Well, how about we go find a snack and watch a movie or something? Just talk."

"Thank you for understanding. I'd like that." He pecks her lips. When he finds himself getting lost in her mouth, he pulls back. "I've got a couple of quarters."

"I think I saw a vending machine around the corner." She gets off him, waits for him at the door. "You coming or what?"

He stares at her for a moment. If he wasn't an Avenger and met her in this lifetime, he thinks he'd follow her to the ends of the earth if she asked.

* * *

Friday, 9:52pm

Abbie sits with a glass of whiskey in a bar that reminds her of Maby's. It's got a juke box and a pool table and other bar-like things, including a karaoke machine.

After the death of Katrina and Henry and averting doomsday, Crane decided to skip town. He didn't leave a note or send a text or call her. Nothing. She went to the Archives, the cabin, and The Historical Society to find them all empty of her partner. She called Jenny, Irving, Joe, Hawley, even, to see if they heard from him. No one knew he even left.

Pissed and hurt, Abbie decided she'd leave, too, but at least she had the courtesy to tell someone. Around eight in the evening, she packed a bag and drove countless miles to upstate New York, where there were lakes and trees. She stopped in an obscure small town, checked into a dingy hotel, and by foot, found a bar five minutes away. She wanted to lick her wounds privately.

She hears someone else walk in and take a seat.

"What will you have, Captain?" the bartender asks.

Abbie's heart jumps because she thinks it's Crane, that he somehow landed in the exact place she was.

_You ready, Captain?_

_Ready, Leftenant. _

This was one of the last conversations she had with him before they drove home in silence, scarred and exhausted.

When she quickly turns to the person two chairs from her, she's disappointed and surprised. It's a Captain but not the one she knows. It's Steve Rogers, the one and only Captain America. There's no uniform, no shield, no teammates. He's by himself, in a brown leather jacket, t-shirt, and jeans.

"Just a beer, please."

"You got it, Cap." The bartender salutes and fixes his drink immediately.

Steve returns the gesture in thanks.

"Done saving the world today?" she says.

He smiles at her. "For now, yes."

If they met each other, he and Crane would have something in common. Both being torn from their previous life and all. Both having to adjust and find themselves in the 21st century.

She nods. "I understand that. I'm Abbie."

"Steve."

"I kinda figured." She chuckles.

He grins. "That obvious, huh?"

"Pretty much."

He extends his hand toward her. "It's nice to meet you, Abbie."

His handshake was just as gentle and commanding as his voice.

"You, too."

His beer is placed in front of him. "What brings you here?"

She sighs. "It's a long story. You?"

"It's an even longer story."

She nods as she watches the bartender put a few quarters in the jukebox; an oldie comes on.

After the last couple of days she's had, she'd rather not discuss anything regarding her personal life. An escape is what she needs the most. She wants to forget about being a Witness and protecting small town Sleepy Hollow from witches, spells, and monsters, all of which would probably make Captain America shake in his armor. More than anything, she wants to forget feeling insignificant, a throw-away, abandoned because of Crane's leaving.

"This is a good song," Steve says.

"I'm surprised you know it, Captain." She smirks.

"One of my teammates introduced me. Can't go wrong with Aretha."

The Queen of Soul sings about giving a man something he can feel, and she wishes she had that feeling herself, anything to forget about Crane and her calling. She wants to be free, to do what she wants for once, to feel adored.

She lifts her drink towards him. "Cheers to that."

He smiles. "Would you care to dance, Abbie?"

She guzzles the rest of her drink. "Why the hell not?"

Steve removes his jacket, and she likes the view of his arms in his t-shirt. His whole body is quite pleasant to look at, if she's honest. She sees why women swoon when they're in front of him.

After he helps her out of her stool, he leads her to the open space in the bar. He holds her around her waist; her arms circle his neck.

"What's your favorite song?" he says.

She wrinkles her nose. "Hard to pick. Something by Nina Simone though. What's on your playlist?"

"The Beatles, at the moment. I'm really loving 'Hey, Jude.'"

Abbie sings some of the lyrics and giggles afterwards. "A great one, too."

He nods. "You've got a nice voice."

She waves him off. "It's nothing special."

"We'll have to disagree then."

She blushes, plays with the hair at the back of his neck while he runs his hands up and down her back. He's sweet to her. It's been a minute since a man has complimented her, held her, even. She likes this.

"You like to sing?"

He snorts. "I'm terrible. I can't sing on key at all. My friends have told me so."

She laughs. "That bad, huh?"

"That bad."

"At least they're honest."

"I can't argue there," he says. "I remember when me and my friend Bucky went caroling one Christmas around our neighborhood in Brooklyn. He said I sounded worse than a screeching cat."

She winces. "Damn."

"Yeah." He chuckles.

"Is Bucky apart of the Avengers, too?"

She's seen him and his team on the news occasionally, wearing their suits and holding their fancy gadgets. Kids around town loved dressing like them.

He sighs, and his eyes sadden. "No. I don't know where he is."

She doesn't ask any further questions. This seems like something that's really troubling him.

"You'll find him, Steve."

"Only time will tell. I just hope he isn't—"

She touches his chest. "Don't. As someone told me, some things just take faith."

"I don't know how much I have left, to be honest." He stares at their feet.

She perfectly understands that.

"You have more than you know."

He leans his forehead against hers, and she touches his cheek.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He pulls her closer to him and her skin warms. She likes this. Part of her wishes it was Crane holding her, but she's tired of thinking of him. The jukebox is on shuffle now, playing The Temptations. She sees the bartender rinse glasses and then go into the kitchen. Steve's staring at her, like he's trying to catch what's beneath her exterior.

"What?"

"It seems like you've lost someone, too."

She's a bit startled by his perception, but something in her doesn't mind his ability to sort through her.

"How can you tell?"

"It's in the heart of your eyes. In the crook of your voice." His fingers slip under her shirt. "In the tightness of your spine."

She bites her lip, feels her skin tingling with goosebumps. It's mesmerizing. He's mesmerizing. And suddenly her throat seems slightly taut from his intensity.

"You're not wrong." She pauses. "My partner left. He didn't say a word about it."

"I'm sorry, Abbie." He touches her cheek. "He'll come back to you. He's foolish not to."

She closes her eyes. His hands are nice there. Comforting. Warm. Her eyes open.

"I don't want to talk about him anymore. In fact, I just want to forget all the bad shit I've been through recently."

"I think we both deserve that."

Silence crowds between them in the empty bar. His breath tickles her nose and mouth. His thumb skims her bottom lip as his eye welcome her to kiss him. She does. Gladly.

He sighs in relief, and she runs her fingers though his hair. He groans as her tongue slips inside his mouth to taste him. He's tart and slightly sweet from the blueberry beer he didn't finish. She's enjoying letting go, enjoying the way he gently grips her ass and wraps her legs around his waist. After he carefully sits her on the edge of the pool table, he kisses down her neck, leaving tiny nips as he goes. She moans, grips his shoulders.

He whispers her name against her collar bone. She drags her fingers up his toned arms. Aside from his ass and voice, she thinks this is her favorite part of him. She hums in his ear and loves the heat under his skin. Her legs tighten around him. She softly moans at his arousal between her thighs. He kisses her like he knows her; like he wants to give her everything good; like he doesn't mind being her hideaway. She wonders what he wants to hide from, what scares him, what makes him brave. Her eyes find his, and as she stares into them, she thinks she sees just a small portion of who he is: a hero, a friend, a person just wanting to help others. And she smiles. He kisses her nose.

"What?"

"You're something else, Steve."

He kisses her fingers. "Is that good or bad?"

_Good._

"Come here." She pecks his lips. "I've got a room at a hotel if you're interested. It's not fancy or anything, but it's mine for the night."

He smirks, kisses her cheek. "If you're comfortable with me in your room, then I'm happy to join you."

"I am."

Steve helps her off the pool table. They grab their belongings after he pays for their drinks and leaves a generous tip for the bartender. He takes her hand. When they're outside, she sees a motorcycle; it has a duffel bag attached to the end of it. She didn't think he was that kind of guy. For a second, she thinks of Crane, and how they rode one when her car got struck by lightning. He was out of his wits. _Damn him._

"Have you ridden on one of these before?"

"A couple of times, yeah."

He raises his eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Really."

He tosses her his keys, kisses her lips. "Let's see what you've got, sweetness."

If only he knew her wild side.


End file.
